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by aneighthdomain



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blindfolds, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, ship sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22128019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneighthdomain/pseuds/aneighthdomain
Summary: Once more before they leave forever.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Omera, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Omera (Star Wars)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 61





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**Author's Note:**

> *EDIT PRT TEH 2ND* This is actually cross posted. I decided that I wanted to have a separate profile over a psued. Just to keep 2 - 5 years ago skill level gap separated. Thanks for understanding!
> 
> *EDIT*Yup, as expected, this was completely retconned by the final episode of this season, though there is always the remote possibility of later. Only changed one thing, not named for spoiler reasons. Enjoy!  
>    
> So, I wrote this, like, today. This is my Christmas present to myself and the rest of the fandom. Takes place at the end of the 4th Episode of the Mandalorian, after he and the Child have left the farmsted. I super wanted to get this out before the last ep drops on Friday so that at least I got it written before it all gets retconned with the finale.  
> SPOILER WARNING!!!!!! I do use the Mandalorian's real name in this, if you don't what to know what it is, then there ya go, here's your warning. The rest of this is just wish fulfillment. Hope ya'll have fun!

The lights from the Razor Crest spurred her on, in spite of the weariness. Omera had already overshot her second wind and moved to to her third or fourth. Now she hit her fifth. There were no engine sounds, a good sign, though she didn’t hear the sounds of shifting supplied either. Was she going to approach the ship only to have it take off right in front of her?

Omera reached into her pocket and clutched to the strip of fabric before adding another bit of speed. Coming into the area of the bright light, her eyes stung and teared for a moment. When they cleared again it was to the sight of the Mandalorian bent slightly to the droid driver of the cart, head turned toward her, blaster only just now lowering.

“Omera,” he murmured, the analogue feedback disguising the tone slightly. Was that incredulity or warmth?  
When she’d left this morning, she hadn’t had much more of a plan beyond preparing herself, stuffing the dark fabric into her pocket, kissing Winta before sending her to stay another family for the two days she would be gone, and starting on the track. So as he continued to regard her, she felt heat bloom in her cheeks with no idea of what to say.

The Mandalorian holstered his blaster and turned back to the droid. “Stay here,” he told it. “You'll have a passenger on the way back. Just wait a moment.”

The droid spun its head around and looked at her. It burbled assent. The Mandalorian turned from the droid and looked back at her, raising his gloved hand to gesture at the ramp of the ship.

Omera slipped her hand into her pocket again, tightening her hand on the cloth as she moved toward, then up the ramp. Once inside she paced toward the front of the ship, absently noting the weapons locker, the ladder to the cockpit and the docking hatch, storing the locations in the back of her mind as a matter of habit.

She didn’t turn back around until she heard the soft tread of the Mandalorian's steps. He leaned up against the inside of the ship's exit, arms crossed over his chest as the cold mask leveled at her. Her heart pumped hard as she searched for words, any words.

His casual stance was rigid in spite of the air of confidence he tried to project, and somehow she realized he was just as nervous as she was. After a moment one of his hands reached up and rubbed against the back of his neck, below the edge of his helmet. “You have something you want to say.”

Omera nodded. “I do.” And then words failed her again. She cast around glancing all over the ship, checking the areas of importance again absently. She also noted the pram was nowhere in sight.

“Where’s your boy?” she blurted.

The Mandalorian tilted his head slightly. “Sleeping,” he said, pointing up at the ladder to the cockpit.

Omera nodded again. “Ah.” Again, no more words. She cleared her throat, berating herself to say something. Anything.  
“You never told me your name.” Omera winced at the tone. The desperation was quite clear to her ears, though if it was for words or him she couldn’t have said.

He stared at her for a long moment and she almost retracted the comment.

“Din. My name is Din.”

Omera felt the flush in her cheeks spread to her whole body and a warmth stir in her abdomen.  
Din,” she said. “That’s a nice name.”

He didn’t respond, his posture of waiting again. And again, the ability to speak left her. It was must have been a while even as it felt like moments because he said her name again and the warmth in her abdomen spread lower to hear him say her name so familiarly.

Her hand was still in her pocket, the scrap of fabric gripped tightly in her fist. Just as it looked like he might reach out to escort her back off the Razor Crest, she cleared her throat.

“Din, you know I want you.”

The Mandalorian hesitated for the briefest of moments. “Yes.”

Omera nodded and continued. “And I know you want me.”

There was a much longer hesitation, and Omera held her breath. Not because she thought he didn’t want her but that he was unaware of his feelings, but-

“Yes,” he said much more quietly. He tilted his head down and Omera imagined that if she were behind him she would see the blunt ends of his hair under the edge of the helmet.

“Yes, I do. But I don’t see what we can do about it.”

Omera smiled at the pun, regardless of intention, but she was certain that he’d said it on purpose to lighten the mood. She took a deep breath and drew her hand out of her pocket, the cloth coming with it. She held it out to him to show.

“I don’t intend to see anything,” she murmured.

Without facial expression, it was difficult to be certain, but the Mandalorian’s whole body froze as he seemed to process her words and her intention. And the possibilities.

He stood there, frozen so long he could have been a statue of a mandalorian and Omera moved forward. When she was within arms reach, she held the blind fold out to him.

Slowly he arm unfroze, though the rest of him did not. His hand came up and took the blindfold from her.

“You want your sight bound?”

Omera’s heart started beating a little harder and her voice hitched for just a second. “Yes.”

The eyes behind the mask never left her, she was certain. His other arm reach up as he watched her and pressed the switch for the ramp before it began to rise.  
As the ramp closed up the ship, she felt her breath come in soft pants and the warmth in her abdomen burst into a conflagration and moved down, tingling and tightening in her sex.

When they were closed in, the air changed, one of anticipation and hesitation.

“The kid,” he said, his analogue voice uncertain.

“It was a long day. He won’t wake.”

“But-”

“He won't wake.” she murmured again, confident, though she couldn’t have expressed why she was so certain.

As he had done before, he indicated his trust in her with a nod. Omera put her hand back out for the strip of cloth, taking it from him. She watched him intently as she unfolded it, flattened it, and only closed her eyes when she brought it up to cover them. She very carefully spread the fabric over her face, smoothing out the wrinkles so it would lay perfectly against her eyes. Just as carefully, she tied the knot in the back, then tucked the lengths left into the fabric to prevent accidental tangling.

Then she stood there.

He was very quiet. Only the barely discernible creaks and taps of his armor. A part of her wanted to apologize profusely for putting him in this position, but she knew they both wanted this and Omera was prepared to wait him out until he capitulated or tossed her out bodily.

After what felt like eons, she heard the sound she was waiting for and her heart kicked into hyperdrive.

The Mandlorain’s clothing rustled as the chuff of his blaster being unholstered, then the soft clicks and pops of buckles and clasps.  
She imagined she could see his movements. In her mind she watched as first the vambraces were removed and set aside. Next the paldron and his gloves, the rasp of leather against skin.

There was a tinkling sound as the cassis were unbuckled and set down, then the greaves. Then the louder staccato taps as belt loops hit the cuirass Then she held her breath. There was only one piece of armor left to removed. There was an electric air, heavy with uncertainty and anticipation. Then....

There...the sound of slight scraping against hair, then end of day growth on cheeks, a rustle of hair settling into place. And then the shaky tap as the helmet was set down.

Now her breath punched out of her in tiny pants and her whole body vibrating. She heard his soft foot falls grow louder, coming closer. She shivered when and ungloved hand touched the back of her’s at her side, then fingers sliding up the back of her wrist, forearm, and then elbow. His hand gripped her there and pulled her forward, wrapping it around his back as his other hand touched her corresponding one. She anticipated his desire and wrapped that arm around him as well, splaying both hands over his back, the fabric of his shirt rough with wear from his armor.

The Mandalorian drew her body flush against his, resting his forehead against her as he made soft noises at each point when their bodies touched. The soft pants matched her own and their chests met in synchronicity as they heaved. He was quiet for a long time, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, hands tangled in her hair. It was the longest, most intimate embraced she’d ever experience and, in spite of the clothing between them, the most erotic as she felt the heat of his body pulse against her. The weight of anticipation dropping from her abdomen again and making her feel slick and ready.

She heard the soft intake of breath and waited.

“Can I kiss you??

Her breath exploded out of her in a shaky laugh, her blood rushing through her ears so she could barely hear her assent. The breathy quality of his voice coming directly to her ear and melting her against him.

“Yes,” she said through the tiny pants. “Yes, ye--”

His lips were on hers before she completed the last word and she opened her mouth fully to him, desperate for the slide of his tongue against hers.

Air. She couldn’t get enough. She forgot how to breathe. Her head was dizzy and she clung to him for support as he crushed her body to his. Her legs were weak and they nearly came out from under her, but as he delved repeatedly in and out of her mouth, he walked her back at an odd angle until the bite of rungs pressed into her back . It was perfect. She wedged her hips into the spaces of the ladder and hooked one heel on a rung, then dragged his hips in to wedge them against hers.

They both groaned into the kiss when his length pressed into her core, the combined heat between their two sexes a smoldering fire even through the thick fabrics. He ground into her and they groaned again

His mouth was ravenous on hers, desperate and needy as her own. His hands were tame in their roaming though. They kept to her neck, and shoulders, periodically threading through her hair. Her’s were likewise, roaming in the spaces she could reach between his shoulders and the sweep of his lower back. She needed more.

They broke the kiss simultaneously, but he spoke first.

“I need to touch you,” he rasped in that breathy rough voice.

“Do it,” she groaned, shivering as he rolled his hips into her again. “And let me touch you.”

His response was immediate but not what she has anticipated. Most men took immediately when a woman consented to touch. He didn’t. He pulled away, the harsh slide of clothing, then a puff as what she assumed was his shirt hit the floor. Then the pop and slide of breeches opening. Then he was back, gentling grasping her hands, placing them on his chest.

“Touch me,” he whispered as he let her hands go. She heard the slide and grip of metals on either side of her head. “Touch me as much as you want. I can wait.”

The shudder that went through her felt violent but her hands were steady as she spread her palms against his skin. The expanse of his chest was bare, smooth and warm. As she slid her hands down though, a slight course growth began a little way above his naval and thickened as her hands traveled further down. His breath hitched when she stopped just shy of him and moved her hands to the sides, fingers trailing the jutting v of his hips. He gasped when she slid back up his torso, first brushing her hands over lightly, then scraping her nails over his nipples. She smiled as she heard the unsteady slide of his thumbs over his knuckles on either side of her head when her hands went over his collar, then his neck, his pulse throbbing against her fingertips in time with the pounding of hers.

“Can I touch your face,” she asked.  
  
He hesitated, then whispered back, “Yes.”

With a smile, her fingers slid up first to his jaw. It was strong and squared and it was rough with the end of day’s growth. She liked the scrape of it against her palms. Next she moved to his cheeks. They were sharp and prominent, and from there she moved naturally into his brows, her thumbs moving over the soft crest of them. His eyes she couldn’t really feel the shape of, but his lashes were long and soft where they closed against his cheeks. Then came the sharp slope of his nose and then down to his lips. They were warm and soft, spreading and parting as his breath puffed against her thumb. The bow was rounded and the lower lip full. She felt the humid moisture on the edge of his lip, stopping before she pressed into his mouth.

He obliged her by plucking her thumb tip with his teeth and drawing it into his warm mouth, sliding his tongue around the pad of it.

She let him taste for a moment before giving a slight tug. He gave the digit a final lick and parted his lips for her to retrieve her thumb. She brought it immediately to her mouth and licked delicately at it, sucking at it as she might suck other things and she felt his body tense.  
Smiling, she brought a hand up to a rung above her head, the other to the side rail even while she widened her bent leg out.

“Touch me now, please?”

He didn’t descend on her as she would have expected, but instead cupped the back of her neck to pull her in for a soft kiss As their mouths moved slowly together, he slid the hand from her neck, over her shoulder and down her breast bone. The other hand slid from her raised arm to her side, the heel of his palm caressing the side of her breast.

Then he broke the kiss and drew back. A moment later, his fingers were plucking at the lacings of her dress. She’d worn this one deliberately. It laced down to the navel and she shivered as he pulled the ribbon free of each lace loop, exposing more and more of her skin until he pulled it free altogether.

The ends tickled against her collar bone as he pressed it into her fingers of her raised hand and she took it from him. That hand came down the center of her again, this time skin to skin.

He did not go to either breast, rather he moved his hand over her chest, to her shoulder, pushing the fabric off. She felt his hair brush against her cheek and ear while lips touched the junction between her neck and shoulder. She gripped her hands tightly in their places to keep from driving them into that soft hair.

“More.” she whispered, turning her cheek into his hair to feel it better. “I need more.”

He nodded against her, lightly scraping his teeth down, nipping at her collar, all the while his hand slid back down, this time mercifully over her breast, but briefly, moving instead to cup it in his palm, squeezing gently.

He pulled away from her collar and she thought he was going to kiss her again, maddening her with his care of speed, but then the peak of her breast was in his mouth, warm and wet and she gasped, unable to stop her hands from thrusting into his thick, smooth hair, holding him to her breast.

His hand came up to the other breast, his thumb moving back and forth over that peak and she trembled with the need to cry out.

“The...the other,” she said, voice hot and wispy.

And he obeyed, shoving roughly at the fabric to take the other taunt peak into his mouth, swirling his tongue, laving at the pebbled flesh.

She gripped his hair tightly, mewling, choking back the noise as best she could. One of her hands slid down the back of his neck to between his shoulder blades and she scored her nails back up. He gasped and shook and bit lightly at the underside of her breast in admission.

But he got the message. She didn’t want this slow, gentle pace. She loved it and wished it was something they could explore, but that was an unlikely future and she wanted the passion now before she couldn’t have it again.

He brought his mouth back to her, this time dominating as she had expected before and he slid his hand up to her boot, then thigh of her upraised leg. It continued up to her hip, then around to her low back, then down over her rear where it gripped tightly. He broke the kiss again.

“Oh, hell, ‘Mera, you’re not-”

She was pushing at his breeches, drawing him out into her hand when she interrupted. “In. I need you in me, now!”

He jacked up the hem of her dress as he moved in close to her, rubbing the length of him against her core, both of them groaning at the temporary relief, but he didn’t enter her.

“You prepared for this?” his voice was uneven as he slid between her slick folds.

“Yes,” she gasped, her nails digging into his hips as she tried to guide him into her.

“What if I had said no?”

She shook her head, unable to fathom that they were talking and not moaning. “It doesn’t matter. Just don’t say it now, please!”

“But what if I had?”

She shook her head again and he paused his movements, right directly against her entrance and her head cleared a little.

“What if I had said no, Omera?” he whispered against her lips.

She took a couple of breaths to speak. “I would have asked to see the child and left. Happy to have at least seen the both of you one more time.”

There was no movement for just a moment, both of them holding their breath. And then he surged into her. She gasped, hand flying back to the wrung and side rail to brace herself and gave everything to him.

It wouldn't be long. The slide of friction as he pistoned into her had her near completion already. The bite of the rungs into her back were nothing to the sensation, the clingy slide of their perspiring skin, the staccato slaps of their bodies meeting, all boring into her as a memory that would last a lifetime, because it would have to. All of this brought her to the crest and she gasped out.

“Kiss me!”

And he did, bringing her over, dropping her into the vast warm wash of pleasure and fulfillment and sensitization that threatened to roll her over again as he continued to move.

While she came down briefly, noting the wave she was riding to the crest again, his hand slide behind her lower back to change her angle and support her as his movements became erratic. The other hand touched hers and they laced fingers around the rung.

“I want to come in you, ‘Mera...” he gasped.

She tightened her fingers around his. “Come in me,” she murmured around her own gasps, shivering as she reached the zenith. “I’m protected. Din, come in me.”

She tightened her core around him and he dove for her mouth again, muffling their mutual cries and moans as they climaxed, one after the other.

The fall back to reality was slow and not nearly as heartbreaking as she had expected. He held her, stroking her hair, her shoulders, her arms.

“I have to go,” he whispered hesitantly.

“I know,” she replied, tilting her face up for a kiss and he pressed his lips to her briefly. “Get dressed while I go say goodbye to your boy.”

He kissed her again, long and lingering and threatening to lock them in embrace again. But he drew away and stepped back from her. “Alright,” was all he said before his steps retreated.

Omera turned, caught up the hem of her dress and ascended the ladder to the cockpit. Slowly, she removed the blindfold, blinking into what must be false dawn’s light coming through the windshield. Looking around, she saw the pram and the child dead asleep as most children did.

With a gentle smile, she hung the blindfold on the top rung below the cockpit and then began lacing up her dress.

She watched the child for a long time, listening to the taps and clinks of armor being shifted and buckled, all the while staring at that sweet face.

About the time that the sunrise rays reached her eyes, she heard the movement of armor below the hatch.

“It’s time,” came the analogue laden voice.

Omera sighed, slid a finger along the length of the child’s ear and turned away. Going down the ladder, she saw the blindfold was gone and when she turned to face him, found it tucked into the Mandalorian’s belt. She smiled.

They stared at one another for a long moment before she spoke.

“I hope to see you again, both of you. I don’t expect it, but I do hope.” She turned and moved to the ramp, pressing the switch herself to let it down.

She paused before descending, turning her head back to him. “There’s always going to be a place for both of you here. Always for you.”

Then she mounted the ramp and moved down it. Reaching the droid, she gave it the instructions to go home, then scooted onto the cart. When she turned, both the Mandalorian and the child were watching her. She smiled at them as the cart moved off, waving at the tiny child as it waved at her.

And then the forest closed around the clearing and she heard the ramp of the Razor Crest close, then the engines turn over. As she felt the wind from the ship taking off, she laid back, smiling and ignoring the tears that slipped out from the corner of her eyes because more than anything, she was happy.

She was very happy.  
  
*******  
The seasons had cycled again and the pod contaminated by the AT-ST was finally safe enough to be seeded again. Winta and Omera worked in it today, safer for the both of them than the others in case something was missed in the salvage. All around them were the sounds of farming, the splash and chatter, children playing and the feel of the soft breeze. All of it soothing the ever present quiet ache in her. There were times that it pained her. When she was alone she would pull out the memories. They were always a little sad, but also very happy. Always more happy than sad.

All at once, Omera realized Winta had stopped working next to her, and then all the noise but the krill and the breeze had stopped. She looked up at Winta. She saw the smile and the direction of her eyes and Omera’s heart jumped into her throat.

She stood and turned. A few feet from her on the berm stood a man, unarmored. Her memory and her eyes mapped out his face. The square of his jaw, the sharp of his cheeks, the long lashes, the slope of his nose. The generous mouth. Omera strove to breathe.

Next to the man’s feet was a burble and she rested her sight on the small child with his big eyes and long ears. He waved at her with a goofy smile.  
Omera moved toward the man, noting he set down a bag that clanked and tapped as it hit the ground. Then his hand plucked at a strip of fabric that was tucked into his belt. She looked up into earnest brown eyes, framed by thick, wavy brown hair. There was hope and reservation mingled in them.

“We wondered if you still wanted us to stay?” he murmured in that rough, breathy voice.

Her cheeks pulled up, tugging the corners of her mouth into a broad grin. “Yes,” she said, dashing over to him, arms open.  
He opened his arms as well, pulling her into them.

“Yes, Din,” she said again, tilting her face up to him. “Yes, I want you to say.”

She drew his lovely face down, their lips touching, then parting, then loving. And she was happy. So very happy that everyone was home.

**Author's Note:**

> One last thing, so I don't actually know who plays the Mandalorian. I've never seen the actor nor do I know his name. I have done this very specifically because I don't want to know until if and when it's revealed in the show. So if you noticed that the description on Dyn was non-descript, well, that's the reason. All I know is that the body double they got playing him has short brown hair. 'Cause you can see it at the end of the 4th Episode. So yeah! Hope you all liked it! Drop me a line if you like, ignore me if you don't. ^_^


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